


A Referral From a Friend

by bethfury



Category: You're Next (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfury/pseuds/bethfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re like Batman!” her friend exclaimed as she recounted the mugger’s unconscious form and the woman’s frantic hug before Erin ran back into the evening. </p>
<p>“I am not Batman,” Erin rolled her eyes, “I just know how to take care of myself.”</p>
<p>“You saved the damsel and left before the cops could arrive,” her friend countered, “You are basically Batman.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Referral From a Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pumpernickel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpernickel/gifts).



"So, Erin," the young man read her name tag sticker carefully, letting his eyes linger a moment too long, "tell me about yourself." He smiled nervously, awkwardly fidgeting in his chair but  carefully avoiding to touch the other single men sitting on either side of him.  
  
Erin sized him up in a moment, looking over his overly-twee cardigan, impeccable groomed to not look groomed beard, and attempt at an earnest smile. She instantly regretted taking her friend's suggestion of speed-dating.  
  
Taking a long deep breath, Erin lett another fifteen seconds tick off the obnoxiously oversize timer positioned at the head of the table. "This might be an odd question, but your family doesn't have a large fortune?" she asked as brightly and chipper as she could manage. His eyes looked briefly confused, before deciding she must be joking.  
  
He chuckled nervously, "My dad has a large collection of neon sports team signs in his man cave that will be my inheritance." His face fell when she didn't laugh, but took a mental note of the fact.  
  
"Do you know any criminals? Unsavory individuals?" she asked next, as calmly and friendly as the first question.  
  
The man whose nametag declared Brian with a smiley face looked up at the timer. "Only four more minutes," he said quietly to himself, but loud enough that she could hear it.  
  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you for your favorite Smiths song,” she thought in an attempt to be angry, but only achieving a tired realization that the next man in his carefully pressed polo shirt was probably also not boyfriend material.  
  
“So you’re British?” he tried to start the conversation again as Erin leaned back in the chair, folding her arms.  
  
The question echoed in her head that night as her palm connected sharply with the hard ridge of a mugger’s nose through a black ski mask.  
  
“British!” she yelled, delivering a swift knee to his groin while another one of the young women from speed dating clutched her purse against the wall, “Do I sound British?”

The pale and shaking blonde shook her head quickly, and pressed her body harder against the wall away from Erin’s sphere of violence.  
  
“Why do I do this to myself? As if my future husband is really going to be met in a five minute interval in a bar that has karaoke,” she asked herself aloud, retrieving a small handheld stun gun from her own purse and connecting it with the mugger’s neck.  
  
The man shook for a few seconds before falling back on the ground. Erin shook her head again, “British! A Kiwi maybe, an Afrikaner perhaps, but a Brit!”  
  
“Thank you,” choked out the frightened woman who was finally pulling out a cell phone, “If you hadn’t come along-”  
  
“You might have lost your phone and perhaps gained a scary story to tell your friends and probably nothing else would have happened,” Erin finished the thought, “You should call the cops, I’m going to leave though because they don’t very much like me anymore.”  
  
The last time she had spoken to a police officer it had been from a hospital bed and the weathered and gray-haired detective had refused to even approach closer than the doorway.  
  
“We’re comfortable in calling everything self-defense,” he explained in a monotone, staring at the wall above her head rather than at her. “The family’s lawyers have asked me to explain they will be in touch with you.”  
  
Her hand itched where the tape affixed her IV and the machines around her dissolved into a pleasant white noise to keep her company when nobody visited.  The detective had been the first non-medical visitor she had since arriving and Erin found herself wanting to ask questions just to create another witness to what happened.  
  
“Sir, don’t you want my statement?” she asked, trying to sit herself up in bed.   
  
The detective held up his hands, “Look, your boyfriend’s family is well known in the state. If their lawyers will be in touch, that’s good enough for us.”  
  
In touch with her had meant a non-disclosure agreement sent via messenger and a large enough to apologize for almost getting her murdered check delivered before she was discharged. Her family still hadn’t visited, but she hadn’t expected them.  
  
Erin’s father hadn’t left their compound in over ten years outside of periodic supply runs.  
  
“You never know when everything will go FUBAR,” he explained over a crackly phone on the day of her graduation before beginning his normal lecture on the importance of a bug out bag.  Her roommate at the time had invited Erin to join her family for dinner after the ceremony, she declined when she realized she was tired of always lying and saying it was a visa issue.  
  
The next morning, in dark thick sunglasses she took a seat and a bloody mary at brunch, surrounded by girlfriends who wanted to know the latest on how speed dating had gone.  
  
“You’re like Batman!” her friend exclaimed as she recounted the mugger’s unconscious form and the woman’s frantic hug before Erin ran back into the evening.  
  
“I am not Batman,” Erin rolled her eyes, “I just know how to take care of myself.”  
  
“You saved the damsel and left before the cops could arrive,” her friend countered, “You are basically Batman.”  
  
“I just don’t like seeing when people can’t care for themselves,”  she dismissed it again, “Everyone should know how to protect themselves.”  
  
Erin had left the university upon her discharge from the hospital with an email and the request to have her desk cleaned out and mailed to her. No one had argued with her although the departmental head had promised to help her in transferring to a new school. She kept the email in her inbox and looked at it once a day. She could do anything she wanted with her violence-provided stipend, although anything most days had turned into long walks at night in neighborhoods she didn’t belong in.  
  
“Are you looking for trouble when you know it will find you or am I just poking the bear?” she wrote in her journal one morning while icing her other hand, still sore from a different mugger in a different alley. She had started wearing her own mask that night, black and tight around the eyes, the rest of her face naked besides a matching black lip stain across her mouth.  
  
The job offer came in a immaculate town car from a distinguished woman Erin recognized from the financial news that was the first thing on her television each morning after she returned from her nightly constitutional. An email had arrived with a cross-street address and the woman's perfectly manicured hand had beckoned Erin to join her.  
  
“I need someone to ensure my safety,” the CEO had explained, handing Erin a portfolio of papers  
  
“Ma’am, I’m not a security expert, I am more of a paused academic,” Erin began shaking her head immediately, trying to hand back the file, “To be honest, I’m not even sure why I took the meeting.”  
  
The woman loudly scoffed, rejecting the papers, “I’m not looking for another security expert, I need someone with your skill-set.”  
  
“And what is my skill-set?” Erin’s face grew confused.  
  
“Someone in my family will try and kill me,” the older woman said as matter of factly as you would explain that the sky is blue, water is wet, and blood is thicker than it. Erin silently wondered to herself if she was a more common issue than she had immediately assumed.  
  
“And what can I do?” Erin continued, finally opening the offer and seeing the dollar amount listed atop the contract and non-disclosure agreement.  
  
“You can teach me to survive like you did,” she answered plainly.  
  
Erin began to shake her head again, “I don’t know what you heard but I don’t really have experience in that field.”  
  
The CEO dismissed her denial, “You don’t need to know how I know and I don’t need you to tell me about anything that happened to you, I respect a non-disclosure agreement. You just need to know that I do know, a friend referred me, and I want you to help me.”  
  
She took the job, the woman didn’t want her nights, she wanted Erin’s days and Erin had brunches, amiable conversations, and a Facebook friends list worth of people to avoid.  
  
Besides, the paycheck bought more than just a tactical baton, a pair of night-vision binoculars, and an upgraded apartment. A new business is built through a network and a vigilante’s work is supported through crime.  
  
She deleted her plan-b email the next day, a Ph.D. didn’t feel as worth it anymore.


End file.
